A Transatlantic Tunnel, Hurrah! (25 page)

There was no sensation inside the train as to how fast they were going, which was a good thing since, as they rushed down the slope of the Laurentian Cone, they went faster and faster until their top speed was near 2,000 miles an hour. Since there was nothing to see outside the passengers soon lost interest and ordered drinks and snacks from the hurrying waiters and even broke out packs of cards for their amusement.

But Gus could see the outside landscape in his memory, the covered trench on the ocean bed that hurtled towards the great valley of the Oceanographic Fracture Zone and across the floating bridge at its center.

Good men had died here and now they were through the tunnel and over the bridge and past in an instant and already beginning the climb up to the Azores Station, to once again glide into an air lock, only this time to have the air admitted from the outside.

Unknown to the passengers both trains had been running under the guidance of the Brabbage computer which had apportioned certain amounts of time for the stops at the two intermediate stations, then had controlled train speeds as well so that now, as the American section of the Transatlantic Express slid slowly into the station, the English section was also approaching from the opposite direction, a beautifully timed mid-Atlantic meeting as both braked to a stop at the same instant.

Only a brief halt was scheduled here, for a few speeches, before the trains went their respective ways. Gus was looking out at the train opposite and at the waving crowd in its windows, when there was a tap on his shoulder so that he turned to face a uniformed trainman.

“If you would come with me, Captain Washington.”

There was an edge of concern to the man’s voice that Gus caught instantly so that he nodded and rose at once, hoping that the others had not heard; but they were too involved in the novelty and the excitement to be very aware. The trainman led the way to the platform and Gus queried him at once.

“Not sure, sir, something about Sir Isambard. I was told to bring you at once.”

They hurried across to the waiting train and there was Iris who took him by the hand and led him down the passage out of earshot of the others.

“It’s Father. He has had another attack. And he asked to see you. The doctor is afraid that… that…” She could not finish and the tears so proudly held back until now burst forth.

Gus touched his handkerchief lightly to her eyes as he said, “Take me to him.”

Sir Isambard was alone in the compartment, except for the ministering physician, and the curtains were drawn. They let themselves in and with a single look at the blanket-wrapped figure Gus knew that the matter was very grave indeed. The great engineer looked smaller now, and much older, as he lay with his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open and gasping for air; his lips had a definite bluish tinge to them. The physician was administering an injection to the flaccid arm and they waited until he had done before speaking.

“Daddy,” said Iris, and could speak no more. His eyes opened slowly and he looked at her for long seconds before speaking.

“Come in… both… come in. Doctor, I am weak… too weak…”

“It is to be expected, sir, you must realize—”

“I realize I need something to sit me up… so I can speak. An injection, you know what I need.”

“Any stimulants at this time would be definitely contraindicated.”

“A fancy way of saying… they will kill me. Well, I’m dying anyway… keep the machine running a bit longer is all I ask.”

It took the physician but a moment to reach a decision—then he turned to his bag and prepared his medicines. They waited in silence while the injections were made and a touch of color washed through the sick man’s cheeks.

“That is much better,” said he, struggling to sit up.

“A false illusion,” the doctor insisted. “Afterwards—”

“Afterwards the afterwards,” Sir Isambard said with some of his old manner returned. “I mean to see this inaugural run completed and I’ll do it if I have to be carried to the end on the tips of your infernal needles.

Now clear out until we reach the Grand Banks Station where I’ll need your aid to change trains.” He waited until the door had closed then turned to Gus. “I have played the fool, I can see that at last.”

“Sir—”

“Do not interrupt. The tunnel is built, so our quarrels are at an end. If they ever existed, that is. As I come closer to my Maker and that eternal moment of truth I see that perhaps most of the troubles were caused by my denying your ability. If so I am sorry. More important I feel that in my selfishness I have made two others suffer, and for this I am infinitely more sorry. At one time I believe you two wished to be wed. Do you still?” Iris answered for them both, with a quick nod of her head, while her hand crept out and found Gus’s. “Then so be it. Should have been done years ago.”

“I could not leave you, Father, nor will I. It is my decision.”

“Nonsense. Marry him quick because you won’t have to worry about caring for me much longer.”

“You won’t—!”

“Yes I will. I had better. Man can only make a fool of himself on his deathbed, or admit he’s been a fool. After that he had better die. Now send that physician fellow in for I need a bit more help.”

It was the mighty will inside that frail body that kept it going, for the attack should have felled him long since. Medicine helped, as medicine does, but it was the strong spirit that buoyed him up. At the Grand Banks Station a stretcher was waiting and he was carried across to the other train while the passengers were rushed in their transfer; no sightseeing this time. Down into the tunnel again with Sir Isambard staring ahead fixedly, as though all his will were needed for the process of breathing and staying alive, which perhaps it was. A few minutes later the door opened and Gus looked up, then hurriedly climbed to his feet while Iris curtsied towards the young man who stood there.

“Please, don’t bother,” said he. “We were all concerned about Sir Isambard. How is he?”

“As good as might be expected, Your Highness,” answered Gus.

“Fine. Captain Washington, if you have a moment my mother would like to speak with you.”

They left together and Iris sat by her father, holding his cold hand in both of hers until Gus returned.

“Well?” Sir Isambard asked, his eyes opening at the sound of his entry.

“A very fine woman indeed. She congratulates us all on this work. Then she mentioned a knighthood—”

“Oh, Gus!”

“—Which I refused, saying that there was something I wished more, something for my country. She understood completely. There has been much talk of independence since the tunnel began and apparently the foreign minister, Lord Amis, has been after her continually, seeing more good in the colonies, she says, than he does in England at times. It seems that the wheels have been working below the surface and there will be independence for America at last!”

“Oh Gus, darling, then it has happened! What you have always wanted.”

“Should have taken the knighthood, let the damned colonies take care of themselves.”

Sir Isambard looked out of the window and fretted while they kissed, long and passionately, until with a rush and a burst of light the dark tunnel ended and the green potato fields of Long Island appeared.

“So there,” Sir Isambard said, with some satisfaction, stamping his cane on the floor. “So there! Transatlantic tunnel, under the entire ocean.

A wonderful day.”

He closed his eyes, smiling, and never opened them again.

ENVOI

Across the verdant Cheshire countryside the churchbells sounded their merry call and anyone hearing them could not but smile at their pleasant sound. The church itself, an ancient graying Norman pile of Bulkeley, close by the ancestral Brassey manor of Bulkeley Old Hall, was so surrounded by hedge and flowers that only its tower was visible from the road. Behind it, bordered by the color and perfume of a carefully tended rose garden, was a small yard and here three friends stood.

“I can never thank you too much,” said Gus Washington.

“Nonsense!” Alec Durell answered. “A distinct pleasure to stand up for you. Never been a best man before, in fact haven’t been in church for donkey’s years. In any case, plenty of perks involved. Bit of extra leave, more credit with my tailor for this morning suit, always needed one, chance to kiss the bride. In fact think I’ll try that again.”

And he did while Iris’s eyes shone and she laughed aloud, a vision in white and lace, happy as only brides can be.

“You are sure that you cannot stay for the reception?”

“Positive. Love to, of course, but duty calls. Signed off the old wombat of the Queen Elizabeth, too much of a milk run, back and forth across the Atlantic, might as well go under it in your tunnel like everyone else, for all I saw of it in my engine rooms. Took up my commission again, I did, Queen’s shilling and all that, and they were damned glad to have me.”

“Couldn’t run the R.A.F. without you,” Gus laughed.

“Too true,” he lowered his voice and looked around. “Strictly confidential now—you read the papers of course so you know about this spot of nastiness on the Continent. Count upon foreigners to make trouble any time. It’s the Saxons again, almost as bad as the Prussians, this time after the French. They have been trading shells back and forth across the Rhine which no one cares about as long as they blow up a few pigsties and such, but they hit one of the resort towns with the H.E., blew off the front of the hotel. Can’t have that, British subjects staying there. Being evacuated of course, but still. That’s what battleships are for, as someone said.”

They walked him as far as the garden gate where, after shaking Gus’s hand, he was presumptuous enough to kiss the bride again, something that, surprisingly enough, none of them seemed to mind.

“I’m on the
Invincible,
sister ship to the old
Courageous,
supposed to be identical but ten years more modern in every way. Four stokers in my engine room so we can feed the furnaces manually if the automatic equipment goes out. Fourteen steam turbines spinning her props, seven in each wing. The range is a secret but it is really something, I can assure you, plenty of armament, light and heavy machine guns, small cannon in turrets on top of the twin tails, with two seven-inch recoilless cannon in a turret in her nose. Just wait until she flies along the old Rhine and puts a few bursts across their bows, they’ll think twice about shelling Englishmen!”

He started down the lane, shoulders back in the best military manner, then turned to wave with a most unmilitary smile at the happy couple who stood, arms about one another, and called out.

“Meant to congratulate you on the American independence. A good thing. Why don’t you run for President, Gus, President Washington, has rather an odd sound but a nice one. I bet you could do it.”

Whistling, he went around the turning and out of sight.